


Risks Run

by KaidaShade



Series: Setting Sights [6]
Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Banshee is a genius, Erotic Electrostimulation, Gunplay, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Really unusual sex toys, Sex Toys, Sort Of, absolutely no angst whatsoever, exo sex, really silly porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-25
Updated: 2020-01-25
Packaged: 2021-02-25 03:34:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22409494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KaidaShade/pseuds/KaidaShade
Summary: Cayde attempts to buy a few choice gifts for Banshee, only to find out something surprising about his lover.
Relationships: Banshee-44/Cayde-6 (Destiny)
Series: Setting Sights [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1637296
Comments: 1
Kudos: 64





	Risks Run

**Author's Note:**

> Y'all can thank various discussions with some clanmates for this one, between one of their Exo Hunter's inadvisable uses of Riskrunner and just letting me bounce ideas off them. I love you all and I'm sorry this is what I do with the inspiration you give me.

Cayde held up his datapad, as though the different angle would let him see any mistakes on his order better. This was absolute genius, if he did say so himself. He was the best… whatever he was. Boyfriend? They had a thing, sure, but was it that kind of Thing? He supposed if he was buying Banshee presents like this, it probably was. And sure, there was a selfish element of hoping he would use those presents on  _ him _ now and again, but nonetheless, they were gifts and they were  _ thoughtful  _ damnit!

He keyed in the delivery address and sent the order before he could second guess himself. Express delivery, because he knew his own impatience would kill him if he had to wait longer than a couple of days for Banshee’s reaction. No note; he was pretty certain Banshee would figure out who this particular gift was from.   
  
He didn’t have to wait long at all, it turned out. Literally the next morning a young Hunter slid to a halt next to him as he stood looking out across the City from the hangar, only just avoiding tumbling into the safety nets as she threw her hood back and triumphantly presented him with a folded note. “The Gunsmith asked me to give you this, sir!” She chirped. Really new, then, he thought as he took it.    
“Thanks, kid.” He offered his best wink as he unfolded it, trying to keep his expression neutral; she was an exo, she’d pick up on it if he gave something away.

It was brief, even by Banshee’s standards, but filled with promise.  _ ‘Meet me in the workshop after I close up.’ _ Those words seemed to send a warmth through Cayde’s systems, though whether it was anticipation or dread he was uncertain. Wait, why the hell was he nervous now? He was so sure Banshee would like what he’d gotten him.   
The impromptu courier was still there, so he scribbled a reply in the affirmative and handed the note back to her. “Take that back to him, tell him to put an upgrade module on my tab for you, yeah?”

Her eyes lit up eagerly and she took it and darted off with a “Thank you!” yelled over her shoulder, in true Hunter fashion. Never stayed still for more than a minute or so. He shook his head in bemused fondness, and set about doing some actual work.

Except he absolutely could not concentrate. He found excuses to get up and go wandering through the courtyard a few times, observing Banshee’s shop from a distance to try and get a feel for his mood. He seemed much the same as ever; offering sage advice on guns and life in his usual gruff growl, tinkering on the rare occasion he didn’t have a customer, occasionally staring at something in his hand like he’d forgotten why he’d picked it up, then shaking his head and putting it back down. It was at that point Cayde realised he’d just been standing there for ten minutes staring at him, and he shook himself and moved on.   
  
Despite his best efforts and taking the longer, more difficult, more dangerous way around the outside of the Tower and in through the window, he still ended up in Banshee’s workshop a good half an hour before there was any chance of the Gunsmith closing his shop. The temptation to go rummaging was enormous, but he’d been here enough times to know that Banshee had everything interesting behind at least one lock, or some kind of clever trap that would take the arm off any Guardian dumb enough to try and get through it. He spent a little time admiring the heavy bow locked in a glass cabinet, killed a little more with some restless pacing and a tiny amount more explaining to Sundance that she really needed to go occupy herself elsewhere, not that his Ghost didn’t know exactly what he was planning to get up to here. She sighed, bonked herself gently against his head and drifted out of the window, leaving him totally alone.

On impulse, and with a good fifteen minute still left at least, he started shedding his armour into a neat pile beside the couch. Breastplate, boots, gloves, scarf… hmm, no, the cloak could stay, he had an idea. Shirt and pants followed the rest onto the pile and he arranged himself artfully on the couch, cloak draped over and around him so that it just barely covered the important bits and showed off all the shiny, sculpted planes of his body that he was particularly proud of, of which there were many. Hey, whoever had built him had done a really good job and he might as well let a man like Banshee, who really knew his way around machinery - and maybe Cayde felt a fan or two kick on as he thought about just how  _ well  _ Banshee knew his way around machinery- appreciate that. 

Footsteps from the stairs below heralded Banshee’s arrival, and Cayde propped himself up on his elbow as his head came into view. “Hey.” He said in his best purr. Banshee stopped dead, only head and shoulders visible from the stairs. He blinked, eyes flicking back and forth to take in the view, then he chuckled all low and rough.    
“You’re ridiculous, you know that?” He remarked.

Cayde’s face wasn’t actually capable of forming a pout, but his body language could certainly compensate as he sagged, which just made Banshee shake his head and laugh again. He ascended the rest of the stairs, dumping the crate he carried by the workshop entrance so he could come over and brush his mouth against Cayde’s. “Aw, c’mon. I like that about you.”   
“Figured you invited me for a reason, and I had some time.” Cayde shrugged, feigning casual. 

"I did…" though it did seem to take him a moment to remember it, judging by the way his eyes dimmed in concentration as he straightened up and looked back at the crate he'd brought. They brightened again. "Yeah. Funny thing. I've got this side gig, low-key but a nice earner. Got an order last night. Delivery to my shop. Wondered who might be ordering stuff like that for me of all people." He said, glancing back at Cayde.

Cayde felt whatever he had instead of a heart trip over itself, did his best to stay quiet but lasted a fraction of a second before blurting " _ You  _ run Erotic Engram?" incredulously.

"When I remember it exists, yeah." Banshee's eyes gleamed in amusement, head tilted to one side.

"Huh… explains the shipping times. And the craftsmanship…" he shut himself up before he could say anything too explicit, and Banshee just chuckled. 

"Like I say, good earner. Even the last humans alive got needs, and Guardians… well. You know." He turned back to the crate and opened it up, bending over to grab something inside. Even clothed, it took all of Cayde's limited self control not to reach over and grab his ass. "They got some very specific needs."

He straightened up. Cayde's jaw dropped. "Is that… is that my fucking gun?"

Riskrunner gleamed in seafoam blue in Banshee's hands, and he ran an appraising finger over one of the prongs at its muzzle before dropping onto the couch next to Cayde. 

"Not exactly. A… replica, guess you could call it. Must've heard someone talking about how sexy it was and got the idea stuck. Doesn't fire, but it's not meant for that."

He held it out and Cayde took it gingerly. The material had a little give around the muzzle, soft and pliant with a solid core beneath, but he had to look extremely closely to spot the transition his fingers could feel and had to peer down the barrel to notice the texture within. The prongs bent when he touched them, made mostly of the same material with a thin strip of metal along the outside, and as he turned it over he spotted a concealed slit in the back of the stock. He glanced at Banshee as he poked it, finding a soft, textured passage in the back of the gun that yielded to his fingers. 

"You made a sex toy that looks like an exotic weapon… of course you did. That's fucking genius. Literally fucking genius." He laughed, pinging one of the prongs as he leaned into Banshee’s shoulder. He felt an arm snake around his waist, fingers resting on his thigh, and remembered once again that he was only wearing his cloak.    
“Seemed like a good challenge.” Banshee shrugged, either ignoring or not noticing Cayde’s little shiver as his fingers caressed a seam between thigh plates. “Think I’ve had it a while. Just looking for the right person to try it out.”

Cayde tried to play it cool, but his fans kicked on and betrayed him. “Did you try it?”   
“Don’t think so.”

Cayde leaned into him a little more, stroking his hand up the barrel of the not-actually-a-gun and pinching along one of the prongs until he was sure he had Banshee’s attention. “Well. I’m right here. And it’s my gun, right? So obviously I gotta find out how it compares to the real deal.” Wait. His brain took a second to catch up with his mouth. “Not that I uh, not that I tried that or anything.”

Too late. Banshee gave a husky laugh and pulled him over into a slightly awkward kiss. “Your Ghost’d never let you live that down, huh?”    
“What she doesn’t know can’t hurt me.” Cayde replied smoothly, twisting in his arms to kiss him properly and crawl onto his lap, cape covering his ass but doing nothing to stop the heat of his thighs from soaking into Banshee’s pants. Not-Riskrunner ended up on the floor, but that was fine, he could pick it up later. Fully intended to in fact. But for now he was equally interested in Banshee's hands fisting in his cape as their mouths collided, warm air from fans caressing his bare plating and ruffling the Gunsmith's clothes. Why was he still dressed? Much as Cayde loved being naked and vulnerable in his lap, legs splayed wide over his thighs, he wanted to see Banshee too.

His hands fumbled over his shirt, resisting the urge to just rip it off and shoving his hands up under the fabric instead, tracing nicks and scratches and the edges of plates as they parted under his touch. He sent Light seeping from his fingers, felt Banshee shudder at the warmth and drag him closer with a muffled, needy sound. “Fuck, Cayde…” 

“Lemme take this off? Please?” He pulled back ever so slightly, mouth trailing Banshee’s jaw as he lifted the hem of his shirt. He felt as much as saw him nod, was maybe a little too eager and had to spend a moment untangling him as he tried to yank his shirt over his head, couldn’t help a staticky laugh as Banshee’s muffled curses drifted from under the fabric, but he clearly wasn’t that annoyed because he crashed their mouths back together as soon as he struggled free.

He wrapped his arms around Banshee’s neck, shifting in his lap and letting his fingers warm again as he trailed them over his shoulders, to the base of his skull and down his spine, felt his vents huff against him as they pressed chest to chest, hip to hip, Cayde undeniably hard against Banshee’s abdomen even from just the heated kisses. He could feel Banshee twitch under him, trying not to grind against him, and rolled his hips to try and encourage it. He came here to get fucked, damnit, he wanted  _ more.  _ He was rewarded by Banshee letting go of his cape and sliding his hand down to grab his ass. Not much to squeeze, but Banshee didn’t seem to care.

“Hey, fuck, Banshee c’mon, please, I need…” He tried, his vocaliser skipping a few times as he tried to get it together. Banshee tilted his head to nip his jaw, made his vents stutter as he tipped his head back.   
“Need what, Cayde?”

He had to take a moment to gather himself. Banshee sounded far too put together, and he ground down on him just to make him burst static and grip him harder. “I want you to show me what that gun can do. C’mon. Wreck me.”

For a moment he thought he’d broken him; Banshee didn’t move for a couple of seconds, and then Cayde found himself spun around and dropped onto the couch with such speed that he flailed and nearly fell, only his Hunter grace and Banshee’s arms either side of his waist saving him from embarrassment. He did not squeak, and if Banshee said he did he would vehemently deny it. He wasn’t left with much time to think about it with Banshee pressed between his thighs, hard against him and biting his neck hard enough to have him sputtering static and clinging with all four limbs around him. He was dimly aware that one of the Gunsmith’s clever hands wasn’t on him, and he felt the Riskrunner replica clank against his hip before he realised why, found it left laying beside him as Banshee drew back, his fans running hot and his eyes bright and flickering with lust.    
  
“Damn, look at you.” He growled, voice staticky with a tiny little stutter and skip on the words that betrayed how difficult they were to get out. Cayde flopped back, his cape all bunched up underneath him and several scrapes on his neck from Banshee’s jaws, his knees fallen open and his cock hard and gleaming against his stomach. He knew how he looked, watched Banshee drink it in as he leaned back to grab the lube from where he’d taken to leaving it on the workbench. Gun oil was such a good excuse, he thought as he watched him unscrew the lid with his mouth and spit it aside, grab the weapon and dribble the slick liquid along the prongs and barrel, his eyes on Cayde the whole time. Just that look, that focus that he normally only saw when Banshee was working on something particularly spectacular, was enough to have him clenching on nothing and his plating heating. 

He didn’t make him wait long at least. The slick prongs gleamed as Banshee adjusted his grip to squeeze them together into a single point, then used his other hand to hike Cayde’s leg up over his shoulder for a better angle, leaving the Hunter sprawled on his side. His vocaliser stuttered at being manhandled like that and he couldn’t deny how hot it was to have Banshee spread him open so easily, especially not when he felt the first slow press of the toy. The prongs were slender on their own, but bunched together the toy widened quickly and he felt himself gasp static and shoved his face into the couch cushion to try to muffle it. Banshee’s low, quiet chuckle made him  _ ache _ for it and he groaned, but he wasn’t sure if he was embarrassed or if it was just that Banshee had  _ stopped  _ and that was utterly unacceptable.    
  
“Good? Too much?”    
“Keep going, fuck,  _ please _ .” He tried to squirm and get it deeper, but Banshee held onto his thigh and stopped him.    
“Easy. It’s big, let me do it.” He said, and true to his word he did let it slide a little deeper. The end of the barrel caught for a moment before pressing inside, stretching him wide and sending shivers of pleasure through his systems, and this time the desperate, glitchy little noises he made only seemed to encourage Banshee. Cayde was pretty sure some of them were meant to be words, but he didn’t remember what he’d been trying to say.

It felt like it took a long time for the thick, heavy gun barrel to hit his limit, and by then he was radiating heat and Light all over. He was distantly aware of Banshee’s chest pressed up under his leg, hand stroking his thigh as he rumbled soft, indistinct praise. It was only when he tipped his head and rubbed it against his knee that he realised he could feel the Light, seemed to be basking in it like a cat in a sun patch, and that made him shiver and let out a quiet broken mic squeal when, in his distraction, Banshee forgot to pull the toy out.

“H-hey, c’mon, don’t space out…” He stuttered through skips and bursts of static.   
“‘M not. You wanted to see what this thing can do, right?” Banshee’s voice was a rough, gravelly purr that seemed to go straight to Cayde’s cock, and he had to take a moment to process the actual words before he could nod and agree to them. He felt Banshee adjust his grip somehow, the shift of the toy inside him making him clench and whimper, and then there was the click of a trigger.   
  
A crackle of electricity surged through him, setting his wires singing in a cacophony of ecstasy as calipers he didn’t even know he  _ had  _ clenched down on the toy. He arched against the couch as a loud feedback screech wrenched itself from his vocaliser and a slightly less loud tearing sound heralded the destruction of the cushion he was clinging to, and it was all he could do to hold onto himself and not come right there. How, he thought, had Banshee managed to condense the euphoria of using Riskrunner into such a singular, intense hit? Since when had he even been into this? He didn’t care, couldn’t formulate the thoughts right then, all he wanted was more and he made that as clear as he could by rocking back on him with another staticky, deliberate moan because Banshee needed to know this was good, needed to know that he wanted it, wanted  _ him _ and his absolute genius creation.

He seemed to get the message. The gun shifted inside him and he glanced up to see Banshee line up and thrust into the other end of it. He didn’t hesitate, rolling his hips to push the toy deep into Cayde and sliding back to do so again with a rough static crackle. He was still so sensitive from the surge that every move sent aftershocks and shivers through him, dragged inhuman, inarticulate sounds from his vocaliser that he just hoped Banshee would read as pleasure and not a sign to stop. His face ended up buried between the arm of the couch and the cushion he’d destroyed to muffle the noises, hips rocking helplessly as he chased every movement, every spark of ecstasy that Banshee deigned to give as he heard him slowly coming undone behind him.

Another electric surge took him by surprise and he only just muffled his scream as orgasm wracked him, just about registered a squeal of static from Banshee as it apparently finished him too. It left him limp, sensors trying to reboot from the overload of information and fans roaring to cool him, and he could only whine quietly as Banshee slid the gun free and sagged on top of him, his plating hot and his vocaliser still occasionally giving little rumbles of static as he cuddled in. He was still pressed up between Cayde’s thighs, so the only logical thing to do - as much as Cayde’s brain could do logic right then - was to wrap his arms around him too and nuzzle the top of his head with a contented mumble.

He didn’t realise he was all but glowing with Light until Banshee buried his face in his neck and mumbled something about the Traveller, and then made a noise of protest and squeezed him tighter when he tried to rein it in. He chuckled, surprised at the breathless edge to a voice not controlled by his breathing, and let it be. That was fine, he was basking in the afterglow too after all.   
  
It seemed like a long time before he could speak again. Maybe he even fell asleep for a while, which was a miracle in and of itself, but he found Banshee’s fingers idly stroking along his spine and over his shoulderblades and he did a very good imitation of a contented sigh. “I ever tell you you’re a fucking genius?” He asked.   
“Once or twice. Maybe more.” Came the reply, the hand never still and incredibly pleasant.    
“Good. Coz you’re a fucking genius. Does mean I gotta get you a better present, though. Not right to buy you something from you. You’re not secretly also the guy who does the chocolates down in the Peregrine District right?”   
“Heh. Nah. Not a bad idea though. Don’t think I’m so suited to food prep, gets all stuck in the joints.” He flexed his fingers, scritching gently on the edge of Cayde’s shoulder plate, and he squirmed to try and get it where he wanted it.    
“You already work too hard. Let someone else make the chocolates. Trust me, they’re almost as good as sex. Not sex with you, you crazy genius bastard, but like, some sex.” 

Banshee laughed, and that was almost as good as sex, too, close enough that Cayde couldn’t help but kiss him. “I’ll hold you to that.”   
“Bet on it.” He kissed him again, because he could, and settled in for the kind of cuddle session that Banshee deserved from him.


End file.
